Gateway To Dah Motherfuggin Mind, Yo: Difference between revisions
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A’ter a week o’ talkin’ wit dem iced motherfuckers through his thoughts, his ass became distressed, sayin’ ‘em voices overwelmin’ him, yo. When he wasn’t chillin’ up in his crib, his mothafuckin ass was being bombed by hundred o’ dead crackers that refused to leave his ass alone. He threw his thug ass against tha walls o’ his crib, trying to get some pain, but that shit don’t work. He begged dem scientists fo some drugs, yo. Poppin’ peelz worked fo’ three days, til’ chillin’ was scary as not chillin’. Even in his dreams he saw dem dead motherfuckers.
Not one motherfucking day late, the cracker began to scream his ass out and claw his ‘ballz, hopin’ to get some pain up in his brain. Dem voices up in his grill be talking bout the apocalypse or some shit. At one motherfuckin’ point, his as shouted "No heaven, no
Another bullshit-ass day, the old geezer could no longer talk his bo shit. He ass was fucked up, and he started takin’ bites out his arm. Dem scientists hauled their motherfuckin’ asses up into his crib so he couldn’t ice himself. A’ter a few hours, the motherfucker stopped his bullshitting around. He stared his ass at the ceiling of his crib and cried his ass out. He had to be given extra water cause of his constant bitch-ass crying. Eventually, despite his broken-ass eyes, he made eye contact with a scientist fo’ a first motherfucking time.
He whispered: "Yo, my ass has spoken with God, and His ass abandoned us,
Dere wasn’t a damn thing that iced his ass.
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